Shock and Awe
by CoraMorant
Summary: Roy's been ordered to capture a dangerous rogue alchemist and he's got the perfect plan. All he needs is two tickets to the Ivanov Ballet and a cross dressing Fullmetal Alchemist. Gen.


Fullmetal stormed into the office, shutting the door with a bang and slamming his hands onto Roy's desk.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Ed said, leaning forward aggressively. "Hell, I can't believe I'm doing this, orders or not! There has got to be some sort of rule against this shit."

Roy suppressed a smirk. Okay, that was lie, he was definitely smirking. Maybe even grinning.

"But Fullmetal," he said sweetly, "It's absolutely integral to the mission that you blend in."

"How is this," Ed seethed, gesturing towards his clothing, "blending in?"

Roy tried really, really hard not to laugh. He thought he even succeeded. Or not, looking at the expression on Ed's face.

"Fullmetal, you'd hardly be an appropriate date in your regular attire. And anyway, that dress looks lovely on you. I'm assured it's the latest fashion."

Roy was grinning now. He couldn't help it anymore. This was sweet, sweet revenge for the reams of paperwork he had to do, cleaning up all of Fullmetal's messes. He'd been at the office until midnight last night and arrived at six this morning. Fullmetal had gotten overenthusiastic taking down a rogue alchemist, and had taken down not only the alchemist, but the building he'd been in at the time. As far as Roy was concerned, this mission was just desserts.

And oh look, Ed was blushing.

"Lovely?!" he sputtered. "Are you fucking kidding me? I look ridiculous!"

Roy had mostly made the comment to annoy Fullmetal, but he actually didn't look half bad. The red dress was striking on him, and cut in a way to make him seem more like a boyish woman than an actual boy. The dress was floor length, and Ed was wearing long gloves, both of which were essential to hide the automail. His hair was done in a fashionable updo and he had enough make-up on to look feminine without it being garish. Roy would really have to thank Vanessa, she'd done a fabulous job. Roy wasn't sure his reputation could have taken going out with Fullmetal looking like, well, Fullmetal.

Ed, still bright red, sat down on the couch, a scowl twisting his face.

"What're you wearing, bastard? Hopefully not that, you look like crap." Ed crossed his arms and shoved himself back into the couch.

"Of course not, Fullmetal. Can't be outshone by my date, now can I?" Roy replied.

"I'm not your fucking date," Ed growled.

Roy began to organize his paperwork, smiling serenely as Ed continued to seethe on the couch.

"When're we going anyway? It's soon right? I just want to get this fucking thing over with. Why do I have to go anyway? Can't you do this alone, you lazy bastard?" Ed said, glaring down at his lap and twisted the fabric of the dress.

"You're coming with me because the Shock Wave Alchemist is a dangerous and unpredictable man, and it is absolutely imperative he is caught. Though your methods are somewhat unorthodox, you're a brilliant alchemist, and you do tend to get results," Roy replied.

He glanced over the report on his desk. He'd read it dozens of times. He wasn't kidding when he told Ed this mission would be dangerous. The Shock Wave Alchemist, Colonel Gavin Morgan, had distinguished himself in Ishval in the worst kind of way. He had been well liked by the brass, older and less cocky than Roy, inclined to do what he was told. Or at least that's how it had seemed. It turned out that he'd been selling secrets to Drachma for years. But before he could be arrested, Colonel Morgan had vanished. That was when Roy had been handed to case.

He knew he was being set up for failure. The Shock Wave Alchemist wasn't just dangerous, he was cunning, and he knew the general who had assigned Roy the case thought he would fail and humiliate himself. The brass had justified the assignment by noting that Morgan, like Roy, specialized in alchemy that involved altering air molecules. But with rather different results. Colonel Morgan was called the Shock Wave Alchemist for a reason.

Ed, still fiddling with his dress, looked up at Roy. "How'd you find out he'd be at the ballet tonight, anyway? The report said he'd vanished, that no one knew where he was. And why do I have to be your date?"

"I have my sources," Roy said, smiling mysteriously. "As for why you had to be my date, we don't want Morgan to figure out something is amiss and flee. I frequently take dates to events like this. Taking another one won't arouse suspicions. Taking the Fullmetal Alchemist will."

Maes, of course, was the one who'd given him the tip. He honestly wasn't sure what'd he do without Maes. Probably been executed for mutiny by now, or at best demoted and sent to some remote outpost. Maybe even Briggs. Roy suppressed at shudder at the thought of being under the command of General Armstrong. Terrifying woman. But hopefully one who would remain far away from him. With the information he had, he could turn what should have been a failure into a wild success.

Roy set the report down and stacked up his paperwork. It was unfinished, but hopefully Hawkeye wouldn't notice. He glanced at it guiltily. Okay, unlikely, but hopefully she'd forgive him.

"We're leaving now," Roy said, standing and walking to the door. "Coming, Fullmetal?"

Ed sprung up from his seat, awkwardly clutching his skirt. Roy saw Ed was wearing boots, instead of the more traditional nighttime attire of fashionable pumps. A bit unorthodox, but definitely for the best. Fullmetal might be required to spring into action, and it would be hard enough in the dress without adding delicate shoes to the equation.

This mission itself was a bit unorthodox. It was another rogue alchemist (there really had been an uptick in their numbers lately), but this one was considerably trickier and more dangerous than the one Ed had faced last week.

Roy turned the corner, heading out the entrance where Havoc and a car were waiting. Ed trailed reluctantly behind him.

Havoc was slumped against the car, idly smoking a cigarette. As he heard them approaching, he looked up, eyes widening in surprise.

"How're you doing this lovely evening?" Havoc said, grinning broadly at Ed and opening the passenger door.

"Shut the fuck up," Ed said, glaring at Havoc while he threw himself aggressively into the seat.

"I have to admit, boss," Havoc continued, smirking. "I didn't know you'd clean up so well."

Ed clenched his automail fist. It was somehow even more threatening covered with a fine silk evening glove. Havoc, sensing danger, quickly shut the door on Ed, before turning to Roy.

"So what's the plan, chief?"

"We're going to my apartment so I can change. Then we'll head to the theatre. After you drop us off I want you to park the car and rendezvous with Lt. Hawkeye in case we need backup," Roy replied.

"Got it," Havoc said, saluting.

Roy opened the door on the other side from Ed and got in.

Fullmetal was still fuming in the backseat, frowning fiercely. Hopefully he'd become a bit more amenable as the night went on. And of course Roy hadn't told him everything. He'd found it was best to string Ed along with tidbits of information. It kept him on his feet. But as they pulled away from the curb, Roy felt it might be time to tell Fullmetal why he'd actually asked him to come.

"There's something else you should know," Roy said.

"What?" Ed growled in irritation.

It was a good thing Roy was so tolerant; most commanders wouldn't take this kind of insubordination, no matter how useful Ed was. He continued on to his conclusion; it wouldn't do to make Ed wait.

"Some of the information that Morgan was selling was about the Philosopher's Stone," he said.

Ed immediately perked up, losing his surly look for the first time that night. His eyes brightened with excitement as he eagerly leaned towards Roy.

"The Stone? What sort of information?"

"Well, Fullmetal, I don't know," Roy replied. "That's why we have to catch him."

Ed leaned back disappointed, but seemed less disgruntled than before. Good. Hopefully this would make him a bit more cooperative. Or at least motivated to catch the man, Fullmetal didn't tend to cooperate all that well at his best. Though a motivated Fullmetal…

"And you absolutely _cannot_ destroy the theatre. I don't care how necessary you think it is."

"It was only the one time. The Green Thumb Alchemist was a menace to society," Ed muttered back.

It was rather more than once, to Roy's recollection. And doing a few illegal experiments with plants in East City's parks hardly constituted a "menace to society," as Ed had put it in his report. But he'd let the matter drop for now. Roy had picked on Ed enough for the night. Nothing he could say would be as good as forcing Fullmetal to wear the dress anyway.

They pulled up in front of Roy's apartment building. Havoc turned around, smiling slightly when his eyes flickered to Ed before looking at Roy.

"I'll just wait here then, Colonel?"

"Yes, I shouldn't be more than thirty minutes." He turned to Ed. "Coming or staying?"

Ed seemed torn, glancing between Roy and Havoc. Probably debating the boredom of waiting in the car against spending more time with Roy. Ed reached for the door.

"I'm coming."

Roy got out of the car and Ed followed him up to the door and into the apartment. It was nice, if spartan. Roy felt no need to acquire many personal affects, not when he intended to move to Central in the very near future.

Ed walked over to the couch and sat down with a huff, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"You could try being a bit more ladylike," Roy said. Couldn't have Ed giving them away, after all.

Ed opened his eyes and glared balefully at him. Roy decided not to push it.

He walked into his bedroom and shut the door. He fished his watch out of his pocket, setting it on the nightstand before taking off his uniform and laying it over the chair in the corner. He turned towards the closet, where the suit he had picked out this morning was hanging. It, like Ed's dress, was the latest fashion. It wouldn't do to be outshone by his date.

Roy put the suit on and walked into the bathroom. He dabbed on some cologne and looked into the mirror, considering. Should he put product in? No, too much hassle, and no one to impress anyway. He quickly ran a comb through it, then exited the bathroom. He grabbed his coat out of the closet and checked his watch before sticking it and his gloves into his pocket. 6:30. Time to go then.

He left his bedroom, walking over to the couch and smirking down at Ed, who seemed to have gone to sleep.

"Time to go, darling."

Ed opened his eyes. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. You call me 'darling' or anything like that again, I swear I will hurt you."

Roy just smiled and held out his arm. Ed glared at is suspiciously, before getting up and ignoring Roy entirely, walking out of the apartment ahead of him.

"You know, you take forever. You're worse than a girl," Ed said.

"I'm sure you'd know all about that," Roy said, holding open the door to the street for him.

Another glare. He should really stop baiting Ed, shouldn't he? But it was so entertaining.

They got back into the car and Havoc drove off. Roy glanced at Ed. Probably should brief him a bit more.

"There will be some rules when we get to the theatre so as not to blow our cover. First, you will not talk unless absolutely necessary, and if you must, please whisper. Otherwise it's going to be blatantly obvious you aren't a woman. Second, you will attempt to act like my date. That means taking my arm when I offer it, among other things. Third, from now on your name is Edwina."

Ed looked increasingly irritated as this speech went on. "Fine. But no to the last one, Edwina's a stupid name."

"Well," Roy said reasonably, "What do you want to be called then?"

Ed seemed to mull it over. "Liza," he finally replied, sending Roy a smug grin.

Roy's eyes narrowed. There was no way that name choice was accidental.

"How about Eliza? We don't want your name to be too different, to prevent mistakes."

Ed shrugged, but kept smirking and Roy irrationally felt as if he'd lost some contest.

They pulled up to the theatre. There was a line of cars letting out beautifully dressed men and women. Roy got out and walked around to Ed's side, opening to door for him. Ed stepped onto the curb and Roy shut the door behind him, before offering his arm. This time, Ed took it.

They walked into the theatre, Roy handing the tickets to the man at the door before walking into the lobby. He wanted to get to their seats as soon as possible, to make sure Ed didn't interact with anyone and blow his cover. He led Ed over to the stairs but then—

"Colonel Mustang!" a voice boomed.

Oh no, he recognized that voice. Ed's eyes widened in fear.

"Major Armstrong," Roy said, turning to face him. "I didn't expect to see you here."

The major was accompanied by a pretty young blonde woman with a very distinctive curl in the middle of her forehead.

"A delight to see you as always, Colonel! And please, let me introduce my sister, Catherine." The young woman curtsied shyly to Roy and Ed. "Catherine greatly desired to see the famous Ivanov Ballet, so of course I had no choice but to accompany her. It wouldn't do to have her come all the way to East City alone."

Both Armstrongs smiled at them, while Ed fidgeted and Roy shifted uncomfortably.

"And who is the lovely lady accompanying you tonight?" Armstrong continued, smiling at Ed.

Ed looked briefly outraged before suppressing it.

"This is Eliza," Roy replied. Ed did a fair attempt at a shy smile, and luckily did not try to curtsy. "Unfortunately, she's come down with a bad case of bronchitis and isn't able to talk."

"Ah! A great pity indeed, for so beautiful a young lady to be silenced," Armstrong said, a few tears leaking out of his eyes.

Ed's smile was beginning to look a bit unnaturally fixed. Definitely time to escape.

"As wonderful as it's been to see you, Major, Eliza was hoping to get to our seats early. She's a bit leery of crowds," Roy said.

"Completely understandable! It was wonderful to see you, Colonel. Oh! And before I forget, we're hosting a reception for the dancers at our East City mansion tonight. We'd be delighted if you were able to attend." The tears had disappeared now, and Armstrong beamed at them expectantly.

"I don't think we'll be able to make it, unfortunately, not with Eliza's poor health," Roy said. Ed coughed. Roy thought Ed was probably aiming for dainty, but he sounded more a cat with a hairball.

Armstrong and his sister walked off, heading towards their seats, or perhaps to enthusiastically accost other innocent bystanders.

"Can we go now?" Ed hissed, clutching at Roy's arm.

"Absolutely," Roy said, heading off in the direction of their seats.

* * *

They'd been waiting for about twenty minutes when the theatre began to fill. Ed had spent the time jiggling his leg nervously and picking at his dress while Roy had scanned the theatre, looking for any sign of Colonel Morgan. Roy had made sure to get aisle seats so they could leave quickly if necessary, but that also meant they had to stand to let people by. He began to stand for a couple waiting in the aisle, when the man peered at him curiously. Oh crap. This was really not his night.

"Colonel Mustang!" said yet another person Roy would have rather not seen.

"General Bernhardt," Roy said, smile strained. "How lovely to see you."

Except no, it was not at all lovely. It was fucking terrible. The general was rather deaf and not at all subtle. He was also, unfortunately, extremely well known. Worst of all, he was well known to Colonel Morgan as his commanding officer.

The general's wife was accompanying him, and she smiled at Roy as they moved past and took the seats right next to Roy and Ed. Ed, sitting in the aisle seat, stared at Roy with wide eyes. Roy shook his head slightly. He was fairly certain Ed's cover was safe; Armstrong knew Ed and hadn't recognized him and Roy was fairly certain Ed and the general had never met. But no point in risking it.

"So," Bernhardt said, settling into the seat next to Roy, "who's your lady friend?"

"Eliza," Roy replied. He really didn't want to talk about this. Or anything.

Bernhardt leaned over Roy and gave Ed once-over. Ed noticed, and Roy could see him tensing with anger. He made a quelling gesture with his hand. Ed glared but settled down.

"Not really your usually fare, is she?" the general said, leering. "A bit muscular. Mannish even."

Ed sat straight up, clenching his fist and turning towards Bernhardt. Bernhardt looked surprised at his reaction, and Roy shot Ed a glare. Ed growled under his breath, settling back down to stew.

"Well," Roy said, nodding at a rather malevolent looking Fullmetal, "she's got a great personality."

Ed kicked him in the shin.

Suppressing a wince, Roy had to admit he was damn glad he wasn't on the side with Ed's automail foot, or that would've hurt a whole lot more.

The general opened his mouth to say something else, but as he was about to speak, the lights dimmed. It was good to know at least something could go right. Roy settled in to watch the show.

* * *

This was such a fucking terrible day. Here Ed was, sitting in a dress, at the ballet, with fucking _Mustang_. Damn, he wished Al were here. Everything, even shitty things, were better with Al. But Mustang had pointed out the impracticality of bringing a giant suit of armor to a ballet and Al had agreed. He was too damn sensible sometimes.

As bad as his day was now, it hadn't started great either. He'd woken up way too early from nightmares and hadn't been able to get back to sleep. When the library opened, he and Al had gone to do research, but it turned out someone had checked out all the books they'd wanted. When they went to get lunch, a passing waiter managed to dump coffee all over Ed. So he'd had to go back to the dorms for a shower, and then it was time to meet Mustang's "sister."

He was still suspicious about the sister thing. Mustang had called her his sister and she'd said it herself. But she didn't look anything like Mustang. For someone reason, Ed couldn't really see Mustang having a sister. She was probably some former girlfriend; Mustang had loads of them from what Ed heard.

Mustang had told Ed to meet her in a rented hotel room. When Ed showed up, he'd been immediately assaulted with the sight of dozens of dresses and other bits of feminine clothing. He'd almost turned and ran right then. But Al had been behind him, and shoved him through the door.

"You agreed to do this," Al had whispered to Ed, urging him forward, "and anyway, we owe the Colonel for all he's done for us."

Ed had grumbled but relented, and had spent the next few hours being forced into a variety of dresses. She finally found one she liked, and then sat him down at a vanity and done his hair and make-up. When he'd reluctantly walked back into the main room, Al had started a bit in surprise.

"Wow, Brother," he'd said, "you look pretty nice."

Ed had glared at Al. You weren't supposed to tell your brother he looked good in a dress.

A sudden blare of brass disturbed him out of his thoughts. He leaned towards the stage, watching the dancers jerk around. This was kind of interesting actually. He'd always thought ballet was a bit more, well, dull. All tame and refined. He glanced around him. Based on the expressions on people's faces, he wasn't the only one who was surprised.

He looked over at Mustang. He was staring at the stage, enraptured. Huh. Ed hadn't thought Mustang was actually into this stuff. He'd assumed the Colonel took dates here to look good in hopes of getting laid.

How much longer was this going to last anyway? Fucking dress, couldn't keep a watch in it. Well, whatever, this wasn't so bad anyway. Might as well sit and watch. Mustang had said that they'd sneak back stage after the performance, and that's where they were supposed to find the Shock Wave Alchemist.

Ed shifted around to get comfortable and settled in to watch the show.

* * *

The ballet was absolutely phenomenal. Roy had known that the Ivanov Ballet was supposed to be the best in the world, but he hadn't expected this. This music, this choreography, it was like nothing he'd seen before. It was primal, discordant, and yet strangely beautiful for all of that. The dancers' movements weren't the usual smooth and elegant ones that characterized ballet, but something more true.

The ballet was reaching a climax, the music building. Bodies moved around the stage, gyrating violently. Roy could hear the increasingly loud speech of the audience around him. He looked over to General Bernhardt. The man looked furious. The general had joined in the shouting, shaking his fist. It was getting difficult to hear the music. Roy frowned. Why couldn't people just shut up and enjoy the show?

With a final discordant note, the dancers froze, and the curtain fell. The noise from the audience, already loud, rose to a roar. People began to throw things at the orchestra and the stage. Others turned towards the hecklers, first shouting, then pushing and shoving them.

This was not good. He and Ed needed to get backstage, but it would be almost impossible with this crowd, which was quickly morphing into a riot. He turned to Ed and grabbed his arm.

"Come on!" he shouted over the din. "We need to go now!"

Ed had been staring at the ruckus with wide eyes. He rose at Roy's command, gingerly moving into the aisle.

"We're never going to be able to get out of here in time!" Ed yelled back.

Ed looked around speculatively, before tugging his arm out of Roy's grip, and placing his hands together.

Oh crap.

Ed slammed his hands down and the floor surged up, pushing the shocked crowd out of the way. Ed ran for the door, and Roy ran after him.

"This is not subtle!" Roy yelled.

"If you wanted subtle, you really shouldn't have brought me!" Ed called back, a broad grin on his face.

Ed grabbed Roy's arm and dragged him down a side corridor.

"Backstage is this way, I memorized the floor plans," Ed said.

Sometimes Ed, was just such a _teenager_ that Roy forgot there was a reason he was the youngest state alchemist ever. If there was one thing Ed was exceptionally good at, it was research. It looked like it might pay off.

The corridor was pitch black and quiet after the roar of the theatre. They inched along, peering into the darkened rooms. Roy was looking into yet another empty room when he felt a tug at his arm.

"Hey, I heard something two doors down," Ed whispered, gesturing across the hall.

Roy silently followed him. He could hear the voices now, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Ed leaned closer to the door, brushing against it. The door creaked open and they both froze. But the room was empty. Looking around, Roy saw a faint light coming from a vent near the ceiling.

"I think it connects to another room," Roy murmured.

Ed nodded in agreement. "Damn it though, we can't hear what they're saying."

Roy examined the vent more closely. It was actually pretty big. He looked speculatively at Fullmetal. Hmm. This might work.

"I think you can fit," Roy said. Ed narrowed his eyes.

"I am not climbing in there. And no way can I fit!" Ed growled back.

"No harm in trying," Roy said. But how to get it open. Reaching up, Roy found his fingers just missed the edge. As much as he teased Fullmetal about his height, Roy had to admit he wasn't exactly a giant himself. He'd need to stand on something to remove it.

He looked around and saw a few sturdy wooden crates stacked in a corner. That'd work.

"Help me move this," he said to Ed.

They picked it up and stuck it under the vent. Roy climbed up onto it and pulled away the grate. He squinted into the darkness before looking back at Fullmetal. He'd definitely fit.

"Come on," Roy said, "I'll give you a boost."

"What!" Ed hissed. "I told you, I'm not going in there. And anyway, it'll ruin the dress."

Roy smirked. "Why Fullmetal, I didn't realize you cared so much about your appearance. I do admit, it would be a shame after all the effort Vanessa went to. But sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

"I do not fucking care about this stupid dress!" Ed snarled, red it with anger. Roy had to say, he was really on a roll tonight. Then Ed punched him in the thigh. Oh, fuck. That was the automail.

"Fine, you bastard," Ed said, climbing onto the crate, "I'll do it. If I fit. But don't blame me when the dress is ruined."

Roy boosted Ed into the vent, and lo and behold, he fit perfectly.

"Be careful!" Roy called quietly. "Wouldn't want to smudge your makeup!"

Ed made a rude gesture and crawled forward.

* * *

Ed could not believe his night. He'd thought it was bad before, but this was getting ridiculous. Here he was, crawling through an air vent, in a dress. Fuck everything. Especially Mustang. That bastard.

Ed got to the end of the vent and scanned the room. It looked like a dressing room, with three people seated in it, two men and a woman. The woman, her dark hair in a tight bun, was arguing furiously with a man who had a pointed beard. The last man, a redhead who looked to be a bit older than Mustang, sat quietly in his chair, watching them expressionlessly.

"—ruining everything! We need to leave East City tonight! The plan was to depart directly after the show," pointy beard said in a heavy Drachman accent.

Huh, they were speaking English. That was convenient. Ed's Drachman wasn't really up for anything beyond reading alchemical texts.

"We have to wait until the police have cleared out the riot. I will not have my dancers put in danger," dark bun replied with an equally thick accent.

"The Amestrian military is here! If we don't leave now, they'll find us!" pointy beard said.

Dark bun crossed her arms mulishly. "I do not want my dancers on the train with all this chaos. The Armstrong family has generously offered to let us stay for the night. They were already holding a party for us, there seems to be no reason not to accept their further offer."

"The Armstrongs are an old military family! We can't spend the night there! The plan was for you and the dancers to go to the party while we waited on the train with the personnel and equipment. If Colonel Morgan goes anywhere near there, he'll surely be caught," pointy beard said.

For the first time, the red haired man spoke.

"Staying with the Armstrongs would be perfect, actually."

Both Drachmans looked at him in shock.

"Obviously, I couldn't attend to party itself, but if I'm pretending to simply be a member of the crew, I wouldn't be expected to. And I've never personally met any of the Armstrong family, so they're unlikely to recognize me. It's perfect really. Spending the night there will help allay any suspicions that may have been raised tonight," said the man that was almost certainly Colonel Gavin Morgan, the Shock Wave Alchemist.

Dark bun was nodding in agreement, but pointy beard seemed unconvinced.

"Didn't you say you saw Colonel Mustang here tonight? The Flame Alchemist? The Hero of Ishval?"

Ugh, it was good Mustang couldn't hear them; he'd probably be preening right now at the awe in the Drachman's voice.

"Yes, he is. But he frequently attends the ballet with a date, and he certainly had one tonight. A rather tiny blonde woman, from what I saw."

Ed clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to snarl at Morgan. Who did he think he was calling tiny?!

"And anyway," dark bun said, "I've seen the guest list and your Colonel Mustang isn't on it."

Pointy beard seemed somewhat pacified. "Fine then. We will go the Armstrong mansion, and leave in the morning. But if anything goes wrong, this is on you!" he said, pointing a finger at dark bun.

"I am the ballet mistress of the Ivanov Company. You are some military toady. I do not think it is I who will be blamed," dark bun said, before turning and leaving the room.

Pointy beard gaped in rage, turning to Morgan. But Morgan only smirked at him.

"I have to say, I'm looking forward to experiencing the legendary Armstrong hospitality."

Point beard continued gaping for a moment, before shutting his mouth with a snap.

"Stay here," he commanded, leaving the room. Morgan closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

Well, that seemed to be Ed's cue to leave, too. He scooted awkwardly back down the vent. Mustang wasn't going to like this.

* * *

Roy didn't like this. Ed had told Roy what he'd heard in the room, and what was already a complex operation was turning positively labyrinthine. They could try to apprehend Morgan now, but with the riot going on in the theatre and outside, it would be almost impossible to do without risking serious casualties. It looked like there was only one thing to do.

"We need to find a phone," Roy said.

"A phone? What for? Calling reinforcements?" Ed asked. He was absent mindedly straightening his dress and fixing his hair, and Roy had to force down a smirk. No need to call Ed's attention to it right now.

"Something like that," Roy said, striding back into the corridor. He thought he'd seen a phone in one of the rooms walking here. Ah, there it was. He picked up and dialed.

"Sir?"

"Lt. Hawkeye," Roy said, "there's been a change of plans. This riot is going to make it impossible to take down Morgan without civilian casualties."

"Understood. What's the plan, sir?" she asked.

Roy smirked, glancing over at Ed, who was looking increasingly confused.

"We're going to a party. Meet at my apartment, we need to fix up Fullmetal's hair and makeup."

Roy ignored Ed's outraged exclamation as he walked back towards the theatre.

* * *

They fought their way through the crowds and met Hawkeye and Havoc with the car a few blocks away from the theatre. Ed knew his entire appearance was kind of a mess now and was perversely glad. Stupid dress. Stupid makeup. Stupid hair. He hoped they couldn't fix it, he'd love to ruin Mustang's reputation at this party by looking completely trashed.

When they got back to Mustang's apartment, Mustang told them to wait in the living room while he disappeared off into his bedroom. Ed wondered who was fixing him up. Hawkeye, maybe? She was a woman, after all, she'd know this sort of thing.

Mustang came back with a floral print bag, which Ed assumed held makeup. Wait. Why did Mustang have that? Ed could feel a grin rise on his face.

"So Colonel, you usually keep makeup in your apartment?" Ed asked.

"Not generally, no, but Vanessa dropped this off, in case anything went wrong before you got here," Mustang replied coolly.

"Oh," Ed said. Damn, and he'd hoped he'd be able to get some ammunition out of that.

"Sit here," Mustang said, gesturing at his dining chair. Ed sat. Hawkeye hadn't moved from her spot by the door.

Mustang pulled some bobby pins out of the bag, and moved to stand beside Ed. Much to Ed's surprise, he began pinning the escaped hair into place. Ed pulled away in shock.

"What are you doing?!" he squawked.

Mustang gave him a flat look. "Fixing your hair. I thought that would be obvious, Fullmetal."

"But well, I thought—" Ed looked over at Hawkeye. She stared back, and Ed flushed with embarrassment and turned away. "Never mind."

"Good," Mustang said, and went back to working on his hair.

After Mustang was finished fixing his hair, he sat across from Ed and began to work on the makeup. After a few minutes, he pulled back and gave Ed an assessing look. Ed wasn't even sure what to think anymore. How the hell did Mustang know so much about hair and makeup?

"That should do. I admit, I'm not the expert Vanessa is, but I think it'll be passable," Mustang said.

Ed stood up, and looked down at his dress. It was a bit stained from the air vent. Mustang looked at it too, and sighed.

"Well, nothing to be done for that. We'll just have to say you fell down during the riot."

"Nah," Ed said. He clapped, transmuting the stains out of the dress. Mustang actually looked impressed.

"Nice trick," he said, standing and heading for the door.

Havoc had been watching the entire thing with wide eyes, Ed noticed. He was clearly as surprised as Ed about Mustang's knowledge. Hawkeye, on the other hand, looked bored.

"Are we going now, sir?" she asked.

"Yes. Havoc will drive, I want you to find the nearest good surveillance point for the Armstrong Mansion."

Hawkeye nodded and headed out the door. Mustang followed. Ed turned to Havoc.

"Did you know about that?" Ed asked, gesturing at his face.

Havoc just shrugged and headed for the car.

* * *

After about thirty minutes, Havoc pulled the car to a stop a few blocks from the Armstrong Mansion.

"Lt. Hawkeye, you'll get out here. After Lt. Havoc drops us off, he'll swing back here to meet you," Roy said.

Hawkeye saluted and got out of the car. Roy watched her form receding in the mirror. They hadn't planned for anything to go this badly. But he was sure Hawkeye would be able to find somewhere to watch. They didn't call her the Hawk's Eye for nothing.

Meanwhile, Ed was sulking, hunched up in his corner of the car.

"Fullmetal, when we get there, I want you to fake ill. Ask for somewhere to lie down. When you've been left alone, search the mansion for Morgan. If you find him, do not engage. Come and get me and we'll go after him together," Roy said.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that, whatever. Don't know why you're so worried anyway, he didn't seem that tough," Ed said.

"Don't judge him by his appearance, Fullmetal. He had quite the reputation in Ishval, one that he deserved. He's smart, and he's dangerous," Roy said.

"'Kay, I'll be careful," Ed replied, turning away from Roy. Somehow, Roy didn't think Fullmetal was taking his warnings all that seriously. He had to make Ed understand. Morgan wasn't just some two bit alchemist experimenting with plants.

"Colonel Morgan was commended for winning the Battle of Red Hill. He pretended to be grievously wounded, and a kindly Ishvalan doctor took pity on him and took him into his home. When the city slept that night, Morgan unleashed his alchemy. He leveled the city and killed the majority of its residents, including the doctor who took him in," Roy said. That was only one of the many atrocities committed by Morgan; Roy hoped it was enough to get Ed to take him seriously.

Ed was silent. They pulled up in front of the Armstrong Mansion.

"A true dog of the military," Ed finally said, disgust in his voice.

"And don't forget it, Fullmetal," Roy replied.

Ed reached for his door to get out, but Roy put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Remember Fullmetal, you're my date. You need to act like it. So I'll open the door for you; you'll take my arm. Don't forget not to speak. And just try to be a bit ladylike if you can," Roy said. It was probably asking too much; hopefully Ed would at least remember to be silent.

"Hmph. Don't see why I have to be the girl anyway. It's your stupid mission. Why can't you wear the damn dress," Ed grumbled.

"Well, Fullmetal, between the two of us, I'm not sure anyone would believe that I was a woman, and you a man. Most men are a bit taller," Roy said, getting out of the car.

He went around to open the door, and was met with a livid but silent Ed.

He offered his arm, smirking. He could never resist taunting Fullmetal.

* * *

Ed knew he was gripping Mustang's arm too tightly with his automail hand when Ed felt him wince, but the bastard deserved it for that short comment. Also, Ed was kind of nervous about this whole thing. Going to the ballet was one thing; a party was something completely different.

Mustang glared at Ed, and he reluctantly loosened his grip. They walked up to the intimidating double doors and were greeted by a butler.

"Names?" he asked, bored.

"Colonel Roy Mustang and Miss Eliza Hughes," Mustang said smoothly. The butler checked it against his list, nodded, and beckoned them inside. Ed couldn't help boggling a bit at the interior. Not that the exterior wasn't impressive. He hadn't realize Armstrong came from this kind of money. They were greeted by a maid, who led them to another pair of double doors, which were opened by two further servants. How many damn servants did Armstrong's family have?

As Ed looked around the ballroom, he wanted nothing more than to run. Fuck Mustang and his stupid mission. Ed was absolutely not prepared to interact with all these rich people. He couldn't help but worry they'd see through the disguise. As bad as pretending to be a girl was, people knowing it was Ed in a dress would be even worse. He'd never live it down. Crap, and what if Winry found out? Ed stoop up straighter. Damn it, how was he supposed to act ladylike. Girls smiled on dates, right, he was on a date, he should smile.

Mustang was giving him a weird look. Whatever, Mustang was a weird guy.

"Colonel!" a voice bellowed. Oh great, that'd be Major Armstrong again. Ed widened his smile.

"I'm so glad to see you and Miss—you know I seem to have forgotten your last name," Armstrong said.

"It's Miss Hughes," Mustang said. Where had Mustang got that name anyway? Oh well, it was a pretty common name, probably why he picked it.

"Oh, a relative of the Lieutenant Colonel's?" Armstrong asked.

"A distant cousin," Mustang answered. Ed wasn't quite sure how he felt about being related to some random military guy. And anyway, Mustang shouldn't be complicating the story.

Armstrong turned to Ed. "How is your cousin doing, Miss Hughes?"

Crap, see, this is why you don't complicate the story, how was Ed supposed to talk about some person he didn't even know—

"He's doing well, as are Gracia and Elysia. Which I'm sure Eliza would tell you herself, if not for her illness," Mustang said smoothly.

Oh, right. Ed couldn't talk anyway. Well, guess that was good, just this once.

"Well, even if Miss Hughes can't talk, you can dance, can't you? The orchestra will be playing a lovely waltz next," said Armstrong's sister timidly. She'd snuck up on them while they were talking. What was she doing making such terrible suggestion, Ed couldn't dance. And he mostly certainly didn't want to dance with Mustang. It was high time for Ed to fall deathly ill.

"Oh, I'm sure she'd be up for at least one dance, wouldn't you, Eliza dearest? She does love dancing," said Mustang. What the hell was he thinking, Ed was supposed to be sick, not dancing! He glared at Mustang as he was dragged onto the dance floor.

"This is perfect, you can faint from exhaustion after the dance," Mustang said.

"I am not fucking fainting, you bastard," Ed hissed. "And I don't know how to dance!"

"Even better, your ineptitude might be mistaken for illness," Mustang said. Ed fumed, and thought about kicking Mustang. A slow smile crept onto his face. Hmm, this dancing thing might actually have potential.

"Put your right hand in my left, and your left hand on my shoulder," Mustang said, placing his hand on Ed's waist. Ed tightened his grip on Mustang's hand and grinned. Mustang narrowed his eyes.

"Waltzing is simple," he continued. "It's three beats, right left right, left right left, and so on. For the first step, you put your right foot back, and I'll put my left foot forward, and we'll go on from there. I lead because I'm the man, so you just follow what I do."

Mustang looked as if he expected Ed to protest, but Ed just kept grinning at him. He was looking forward to this dance. The music started.

Huh, this wasn't that hard. Bit like fighting actually. Mustang was actually helping too, he seemed to know what he was doing. But Ed wouldn't want to disappoint him by not flailing around at bit. Instead of moving his left foot away from Mustang, he moved it towards him.

Mustang winced as Ed stepped on Mustang's foot with his automail. Ed blinked with faux innocence. They went on for a few more measures, and then Ed moved the wrong way again. This time, Mustang glared at Ed, but didn't say anything. Third time's the charm? They were moving across the room, towards the wall, and Ed stepped down harder on Mustang's foot.

"Fuck," Mustang swore. Ah, revenge was sweet.

"Maybe I won't have to pretend to faint, you can do it instead, you big baby," Ed said.

"Shut up, you're not supposed to be talking," Mustang said. "We're attracting attention."

"I thought you loved attention, Colonel," Ed said. "All that flashy alchemy."

"The song's almost over. Pretend to faint," Mustang ordered, ignoring Ed. Ugh, fine, at least he'd get to leave the stupid party then.

"You better catch me," Ed said. He keeled forward into Mustang, stepping on his foot one more time.

"Oof," Mustang said. But he did catch Ed, so that was good.

Ed could hear people gathering around them, and Armstrong bellowing in dismay. Then Mustang picked him up (which he was going to pay for later) and Ed felt himself being carried away from the dance floor. Suddenly he was falling as Mustang went down.

"What the hell," Ed hissed.

"I think you broke my toe, _darling_," Mustang said. Woops. Maybe he'd gone a little far.

"Colonel! What's wrong?" Ed heard Armstrong say. He felt himself being lifted from Mustang's grip.

"Let me take him," said a man. Huh, there was something weird about the guy's voice.

Ed felt himself being lifted again, and faintly heard Mustang arguing with Armstrong. Their voices faded into the distance as Ed was carried out of the ballroom. The man set him on a bed, and Ed heard him walk out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Right, time to get searching for Morgan.

Ed opened his eyes just in time to see Morgan activate a transmutation circle.

"You—" Ed snarled, as the blankets on the bed twisted to restrain him.

"Well, well, well. I have to say, I didn't expect to see the Fullmetal Alchemist here, masquerading as a woman," Morgan said, smiling slightly.

"How did you know who I am?" Ed asked. Armstrong knew him, and he hadn't realized it was Ed.

"Oh, it was easy enough to figure out, if you know what to look for. I admit, I wasn't certain until I saw you dancing. After all, why would Colonel Mustang, a known playboy, take a cross dressing teenage state alchemist to a ball? It seems absurd. But I guess Mustang has more, hmm, diverse tastes than most would guess," Morgan said. He walked over to the desk and started rifling through the drawers.

"I am not his date," Ed said, glaring at Morgan and struggling to pull himself free.

"Oh, of course not, so sorry for the mistake," Morgan said, grabbing something out of one of the drawers and turning back towards Ed. "This is all an exceptionally clever ruse to capture me, devised by your brilliant young commanding officer, no doubt. Unfortunately for him, I'm simply not foolish enough to fall for it."

Ed narrowed his eyes. He couldn't tell what Morgan was carrying, but whatever it was, he didn't imagine it'd be good. He hoped Mustang got his act together and realized something was wrong.

"What the hell is that?" Ed said, narrowing his eyes as Morgan opened the paper and spread it on Ed's chest.

"Oh, just an interesting little circle I've devised. It changes the quantity of oxygen in the air enough to knock you out, but not suffocate you. Tricky little thing; took me a lot of tries to get it to work without killing the subject. It'll keep you nice and subdued while we head to the Drachman border," Morgan said, smirking. He was clearly proud of it. Ed could see why Mustang was so worried about this guy; anyone who killed people developing a circle wasn't someone to take lightly.

Ed pulled at the ropes again. He wasn't sure he could get out of this. He just had to hope Mustang got his shit together before they left for Drachma, or Ed was going to be screwed. He felt the circle activate, and his lungs burned. His vision blackened and he saw was Morgan's smugly smiling face leaning over him. A face he wanted to punch more than Mustang's; after this, he was damn well hoping he got the chance. Just as he was slipping into unconsciousness, he thought he heard a loud knock on the door. Hopefully it was Mustang…

* * *

Roy's foot wasn't actually that badly hurt; bruised, yes, and he was going to get Fullmetal for that, but not broken. But it had worked out well, as he'd needed an excuse to abandon Ed. He'd noticed a very suspicious looking Drachman watching them closely, and he hadn't wanted to leave the ballroom. Sure enough, in the commotion they'd caused, he saw the Drachman slip down a side hallway. Now he just had to get away to follow. Hopefully Ed was looking for Morgan by now; Armstrong had instructed the man who'd picked Ed up to take him to a guest room, just as planned.

Now just to get away from Armstrong and out of the ballroom to follow that Drachman. Armstrong was looking deeply concerned, and Roy thought he could see tears in his eyes.

"Colonel Mustang! I'm so sorry you've had such an unfortunate evening! If there's anything I could do to help you, please, let me know. Would you like to be helped to a seat?" Armstrong reached out to pick Roy up, and no, that was definitely not happening. Roy would like to keep some of his dignity tonight.

"I think sitting down would be good, but I'd also like to check on Eliza. Perhaps I could go sit with her?" Roy asked. It was a good excuse to get out of the room and search for the Drachman, and he probably should make sure Ed was doing what he was told to. You just never knew with Fullmetal.

"Of course! It is most admirable to stay with your lovely lady companion. Just what I would expect from an honorable man like yourself," Amstrong said, beaming at him.

Armstrong went down a different hallway than the Drachman, unfortunately. Well, Roy would just have to backtrack later. Armstrong led him to the room and pounded on the door.

"Miss Hughes! Are you in there?"

There was no answer. Maybe Ed was already gone, or was still pretending to be unconscious. But something didn't feel right.

"Let's go in," Roy said.

Armstrong frowned. "It's not very polite to just burst in on a lady."

"Eliza's ill. I want to make sure nothing's happened to her." He hoped Fullmetal hadn't done anything stupid and gotten himself in trouble.

Armstrong turned the handle. The door was locked.

"Hmm, that's odd," he said, frowning in puzzlement. "I'll have to go get the key. I'm not really sure why Mr. Vasiliev would have locked it though.

"Mr. Vasiliev?" Roy asked, increasingly alarmed.

"Yes, an employee of the Ivanov Ballet. A rather peculiar man, but he was very willing to help Miss Hughes."

"Break down the door," Roy said. Fullmetal had been taken to this room by a Drachman, and the door was locked. Something was definitely wrong.

Armstrong seemed concerned as well. His was furrowed in concentration. He backed up, then ran and slammed his shoulder against it. The door burst open.

Inside, sitting on the bed, was the smirking Shock Wave Alchemist, with an unconscious Fullmetal cradled in his lap.

"Long time no see, Colonel Mustang. Major Armstrong," Morgan said. He was stroking Ed's hair, which had begun to come undone. He was almost certainly doing it to get a rise out of Roy. It was what made Morgan so dangerous; he didn't just know alchemy, he knew people, and how to manipulate them.

"What's going on here?" Armstrong sputtered.

"I'm here to apprehend Colonel Gavin Morgan, the Shock Wave Alchemist, for selling state secrets to Drachma. I brought Fullmetal with me for backup. That's him, on the bed with Morgan," Roy said, not taking his eyes off them.

Armstrong blinked in surprise. "Miss Hughes is Edward Elric?"

"It's a long story," Roy said, sighing. This had all been so simple when the night began. Then again, dressing up Fullmetal as his date for cover was probably one of his weaker plans, in retrospect.

"I'd rather guessed it was," Morgan said, still stroking Ed's hair. "You know, he does make a rather charming woman."

Roy had to resist setting Morgan on fire right then. He knew that Morgan was trying to force his hand, but damn it, it was working. Ed was just a kid, and there Morgan was, pawing at him. Roy rubbed his fingers together and slowly moved his hand to his pocket.

"Ah, ah, ah," Morgan said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Flame Alchemist. This circle is very sensitive. I lose control of it, and well, poor little Edward might just not make it."

What the hell was Morgan doing? Roy could see the array on Ed's chest now. He recognized the elements; it looked like it had something to do with altering the composition of the air. Probably what was keeping Ed unconscious. If he could just alter the air composition a little—

Roy edged over to the desk. Maybe he could get a pen and some paper, but first he'd need to distract Morgan somehow. Hmm, he'd always responded well to flattery.

"That's quite impressive," Roy said, nodding at the circle. "How did you do it?"

"Nice try," Morgan replied. "And please, get away from the desk. I'm not going to give you a chance to draw anything."

Roy stopped, then smirked, and reached into his pocket, pulling out his gloves. He slowly pulled them on, as Morgan watched with narrowed eyes.

"I'm not bluffing, Mustang," Morgan said. "Make one more move, and the kid is dead."

"Oh, I didn't think you were bluffing. But you're far more important than Fullmetal. He's just a kid, and a loose cannon at that. Just last week, he leveled a building just to catch some minor alchemist, illegally tinkering with plants. Whereas you are a valuable asset to the military. Who knows what you've already told Drachma, and what you'll tell them in the future? Fullmetal could cost me my job. Catching you could win me a promotion. It's an easy choice."

While Roy had been talking, he'd grabbed a pen off the desk, and was twirling it casually in his hand. He just needed Morgan to be distracted for a moment. Morgan was still suspicious, but seemed increasingly uneasy. Roy had never been more thankful for his reputation as callous and career obsessed. It looked like Morgan might actually believe him.

Unfortunately, it seemed Armstrong did was well.

"Colonel!" Armstrong said, horrified. "How could you? Edward is just a child, and while he may be troublesome, he does not deserve to die at the hands of this madman. Please, Colonel Morgan, I offer myself as your hostage in exchange." He looked imploringly at Colonel Morgan, who seemed baffled at Armstrong's outburst.

This distraction was just what Roy needed. He used the pen to quickly edit the circle on his glove, and activated it without snapping. Hopefully it was enough to change the air composition around Fullmetal.

Morgan was giving Armstrong a bemused stare, ignoring Roy now. Armstrong had begun weeping in earnest, and Roy had never been more grateful that the man was so effusive. He saw Ed stirring slightly on the bed. Even better, it looked like Morgan wasn't quite as smart as he thought he was. Ed's hands were bound, but they were bound together, probably to transport him more easily as a hostage. Roy say Ed bring his hands together and press then to the sheets. Now things should get interesting.

* * *

Ed woke up, lungs still aching from the air deprivation. He was lying in Morgan's lap, and his arms were bound behind his back. Idiot. He tried not to shudder as he felt Morgan touching his hair. What a creep. Peering through narrowed eyes, he could see Mustang standing off to the side watching Ed, while Armstrong wept and pleaded for his life. Hmph, of course Mustang just stood there while Ed was in mortal peril. Typical.

Morgan seemed to be distracted by Armstrong. This was his chance. Ed brought his hands together and transmuted the sheets around Morgan. He saw the shock in Morgan's eyes as Ed rolled off the bed with a thump.

"Edward!" Armstrong exclaimed joyfully.

"Untie me, damn it, that's not going to hold him for long," Ed said, glancing over Morgan struggling with the sheets.

As Armstrong untied Ed's hands, he yelled at Mustang, "Why aren't you doing anything, you bastard?"

"We're supposed to take him alive. Lighting him on fire would be counterproductive," Mustang said, as he scribbled something on a sheet of paper at the desk.

"Can't you just blast him without killing him?" Ed would never tell Mustang, but he'd always been a bit impressed with Mustang's control of the flame alchemy.

"Not while he's wrapped up in highly flammable cotton sheets, I can't." Mustang said, finishing what was almost certainly a circle and placing it on the bed. But just as he was about to activate it, a blast of air tore away the sheet and threw Mustang across the room. Well, now Ed knew why they called him the Shock Wave Alchemist.

Morgan scanned the room, not smiling any more. "Three against one. Not very fair, is it?"

"Oh shut up," Ed said, transmuting the floor to slam into Morgan. Morgan dodged and sent a blast of air Ed's way, throwing him and Armstrong into the wall.

Armstrong growled. "I will not have you ruining this house! It has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations!" He rushed Morgan, who just smirked and sent an even stronger blast his way. Armstrong's head slammed into a statute. Damn it, he seemed to be out for the count. They could've used the help. Oh well, Ed thought he was up to taking down Morgan. He still owed him a punch in the face, after all.

Ed transmuted his automail into a blade and smiled recklessly at Morgan.

"I'd like to see you try that on me!" Ed yelled, charging Morgan. Morgan sent a blast of air his way, and Ed quickly ducked out of the way. Damn, that was close.

"I admit, it'll be harder to hit such a small target," Morgan said.

"Who are you calling so small he—" Ed was interrupted by the roar of fire throwing Morgan into a dresser. Looked like Mustang was okay then.

"I hate using flame alchemy inside," Mustang said, looking around the room at the furniture, which was now in flames. "Secure Morgan; I'll check on Armstrong." Ed nodded and walked over to Morgan.

He cautiously approached the spot he'd seen Morgan fall. Maybe he'd been knocked unconscious.

Morgan surged up from where he had been crouched on the ground, lunging at Ed. Ed dove away, then turned back to Morgan and slashed at him with his automail. He had to make sure Morgan didn't use alchemy again.

Morgan was grinning insanely now, and pulled out a knife. Crap, where'd he gotten the knife. It was better than the alchemy at least, easier to get away from. Morgan rushed Ed, and as Ed twisted away from the knife, Morgan grabbed his skirt and yanked.

Ed tumbled to the floor, falling hard on his flesh arm.

"Fuck," Ed said. Dresses were absolutely not made for fighting in. He swiped his loose hair out of his eyes, going into a crouch and glaring up at Morgan.

"Having trouble, darling?" said Morgan. Oh fuck no, it was bad enough when Mustang had called him that, this was absolutely fucking it.

With a snarl, Ed grabbed the sheet and launched himself at Morgan. Morgan began to bring his hands together, where Ed could see transmutation circles tattooed. Ed clapped, transmuting the sheet into ropes, which twisted around Morgan's arms, pinning them at his sides.

"I am so fucking done with you," Ed said. He grabbed more stuff off the bed to hold Morgan. But as Ed was transmuting the bedding into ropes, Morgan grinned nastily at Ed.

"I hear you're looking for the Philosopher's Stone," he said. Ed's eyes widened. How did he know that? Maybe he'd be able to tell Ed something, Mustang had said he'd been selling information on it to Drachma.

Morgan leaned closer. "You might want to check out Liore," he hissed. "You think I'm bad? You'll find real monsters there."

Ed backed away in confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Mustang walked up behind them, and Morgan turned away from Ed to grin at Mustang.

"Still a good little dog, aren't you? Well, hopefully you get that promotion out of this. Pity to be stuck in East, isn't it, shunted to the side in this backwards district."

"Colonel Morgan. You're under arrest for treason against the state," Mustang said, glaring down at him. "Fullmetal, go call the military police."

Ed glanced back at Colonel Morgan one more time, before turning to Mustang.

"Thanks for helping out, you bastard," Ed said.

"I knew you could handle him," Mustang said calmly. "Now go call."

Scowling, Ed left the room to find a phone. And hopefully a change of clothes, like hell was he meeting the military police dressed like this.

* * *

"So, Mustang, fine young pup you have there," Morgan said.

"The authorities have been summoned. Please just shut up," Roy said, collapsing tiredly onto the desk chair. He activated the circle on his glove, and the flames went out. This night had been far, far too long, and he wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep, and never have to see or think about Colonel Gavin Morgan again.

He eyed a closet in the corner. It had potential. Roy got up and dragged Morgan into the closet and shut the door over Morgan's protests. Much better.

After about twenty minutes, he heard a creak and saw the door swing open. Fullmetal walked in, now dressed in pants and a shirt. His hair was down, though it was hanging strangely from the product that had been holding it up. He'd clearly made an attempt to rub the makeup off his face, but there was still some smudged around his eyes. All for the best, really. He didn't want to have to explain Fullmetal in a dress. He'd just say Eliza had gone home, exhausted from the night's excitement.

"Where'd you get the clothes?" Roy asked.

"Found them in a drawer in some room," Ed said, sitting down tentatively on the ruined bed.

"You actually found something that fit you?" Roy said. Even exhausted, he just couldn't miss a chance to goad Fullmetal.

Ed glared, but surprisingly didn't yell. He must be tired, too. "I transmuted them."

"Ah, of course, otherwise I imagine it would have been rather difficult to find anything to fit someone so small. Maybe you could've borrowed a dress from Armstrong's sister," Roy said.

Here was the reaction he was looking for. Ed had opened his mouth in outrage when Havoc and Hawkeye walked into the room, followed by Major Armstrong and the military police. Roy tiredly got up to greet them and explain the situation.

"Fullmetal, Havoc will drive you home," Roy said. No point in both of them suffering, after all. Ed could probably use the rest, too, after his experience with Morgan.

Ed didn't argue for once, just got up and followed Havoc out the door.

"Sir, can you explain what happened here tonight?" the lead military policeman asked.

Roy glanced at Hawkeye, who give him a small smile. Well, she'd be here for him, no matter what. He'd need her support. It was going to be a long time still until he'd be able to get to bed.

"Well, it all began when I got a tip that Colonel Morgan would be attending the Ivanov Ballet tonight—"

* * *

When Roy walked into the office on Monday morning, he was greeted by the sight of Breda and Havoc grinning at him.

"So, Colonel, I hear you had a hot date last weekend," Breda said.

Ignoring him, Roy walked into his office and firmly shut the door.


End file.
